Solstice and earworms (172/365)

It is the summer solstice, which means it is cold and wet and we are not going to see any more sun on our summer solstice swim later than we did on our winter solstice swim six months ago. (We also won't even be swimming at the actual moment of sunset this time, as 9:27pm is too late for people who have to get up in the morning.

I've had a day of loud and persistent earworms. It started when I was reading N.K. Jemisin's The City We Became while drinking my morning tea; I'm really enjoying the book but it does keep cueing up the Beastie Boys' 'An Open Letter to NYC' on my mental jukebox.

Then I went for my walk, and my brain reverted to 'Woof Woof Woof Goes the Wolfhound' from the latest series of John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme. Except that halfway round it suddenly realised that you could sing the words of Jabberwocky to the same tune. So it did, repeatedly.

And now I've just done my weekly lateral flow test, which always results in getting earwormed by the Chicken Song ('hold a chicken in the air, stick a deckchair up your nose') for what anyone who has ever done a lateral flow test will appreciate are obvious reasons.